


slow down, start again from the beginning

by cassiecasyl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Feels, Gen, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Identity Issues, Letters, May Parker (Spider-Man) is Trying, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter Parker Lacks Self-Preservation Instincts, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Peter Parker, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Worried Tony Stark, but he's acting so stupid in this fic, especially in the emotion department, i honestly don't know how to tag this, running away from problems, well anxiety will do that to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiecasyl/pseuds/cassiecasyl
Summary: When Peter finds a letter from his dead mother revealing that Tony Stark is his biological father, he panics. What if this breaks Tony's family apart? Better to avoid his mentor than to risk it, right?
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 46
Kudos: 508
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2020, The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WaywardFairchild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardFairchild/gifts).



> This is my Fic for the Irondad Fic Exchange!! 
> 
> Wayward Fairchild, you asked for Biodad AU and I took the challenge! I hope you weren't looking forward to a fluffy fic bc this is mostly angst. I'm sorry. There will be fluff though, I promise! Also it got a little self-serving while writing this, I hope you can forgive me xD
> 
> title taken from [Son](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1n5Fve7awY) by Sleeping at Last.

A paper stuck among the old books, almost completely hidden between yellow pages, so full of dust and forgotten stories. They had belonged to his parents, May had said. Carefully, Peter picked at it with his fingers, pulling at the paper standing out next to the cover. He was strangely calm now, his earlier tears forgotten and replaced by an eagerness to explore. The book wouldn’t give it up so easily, and Peter resigned to wiggling it out first so he could open the cover. His eyes only absent-mindedly grazed over the title before he freed his actual prize.

It was a letter, he then realized. The paper seemed somewhat fancy, thicker than the usual copy paper, and soft to his touch. It was folded once in the middle, having been put in the book without further care. Curiosity taking him over, Peter opened the letter, ready to discard it should it be something too personal from his parents. He wasn’t exactly eager to read their love letters. 

His breath hitched as he read the first words. There, in bold, imperfectly beautiful letters at the top of the text, was his name. Quickly, he glanced down, his senses anxiously tingling as he looked at the addresser. 

_Love, Mom._

There was a pinch in his heart, pushing and pulling at it until it was tearing. _Mom_. A sob escaped him, echoing through his quiet room as his hand had been too late to muffle it. Long forgotten grief grew through the cracks in his heart, filling him with the childish want for his mother, over and over asking the question _why. Why did she have to go?_

It was a bitter-sweet kind of sadness, full of nostalgia yet burning like a fresh wound. Everything Peter remembered was fuzzy, leaving only the sense of a mother brushing a strand of hair out of her child’s face, something that seemed to belong to someone else. Neither the kid nor the adult wore faces in his mind. Peter couldn’t even picture her face anymore. It was blasphemy almost, that her existence was so on the brink of oblivion that it barely felt more than fantasy. 

Because of tears that he couldn’t quite explain the words before his eyes transformed into illegible blobs swimming in a salty ocean. He blinked them away, hoping for a glimpse of hope and love, for a break long enough to read them. All of the sudden, he was filled with a brimming excitement and anxiety to dive into the letter, to feel a final connection to his mother.

 _My Dearest Peter,_ it started. He held his breath. 

_You’re growing every day, and it is the most fascinating thing. Please never lose those sparks in your eyes. You’re going to be incredible, I can already tell. Richard and I love you so much. You’re our little sunshine._

Despite everything, he blushed. There was nobody around, but the words felt uncomfortable to read about himself, so unreal. Once, he had been this little child, loved by his parents, but now, this was a lifetime away. It was ghostly love reaching out to him, tainted by the years between them. Peter laughed and cried and his head began to hurt. He fell to his knees, crumbling the letter slightly as he positioned his trembling body to sit comfortably. 

Panic flooded his senses as he spotted the crinkled area, resembling an old person’s skin. He pressed the paper down in an attempt to straighten it, but it only worked slightly. Some traces stayed, glaringly obvious to the boy. Taking a deep breath, he decided to read on. 

The next line, however, sent a chill down his spine.

_For your sake, I hope that you will never read these lines._

Suddenly, the letter seemed to seethe with poison, and Peter’s hand jolted away. He wasn’t supposed to read this. No. It should've never come that far. It was the plane that crashed into the ground, blowing out hundreds of lives, taking his parents. The paper in front of him was debris from his mother’s life and Peter wished it didn’t exist. He wanted nothing to do with it, not with the thousand paper cuts it caused, but he couldn’t help it. 

_I am writing this in case something happens to Richard and me before we were able to tell you. You deserve to know._

He halted, wallowing again in too quick breaths, dizzying his upset brain. Had she known? Had they known that they’d die too soon and leave Peter behind, too young to understand? Was there a hunch that led her to grab a pen, or was it mere precaution? He shook his head, trying to grasp this. Maybe, Peter was still the little kid, too innocent and young for the world. But he’d grown. It was too much. 

Tears rolled down and fell onto the paper, reactivating the old ink. It had been long coming. Peter’s eyes widened, and he frantically wiped at it with his sleeve. It was cold against his skin, damped by his clothes, a sharp reminder of the present. As he lifted his hand, there was a black smear where once stood his dad’s name. He was eradicated by Peter’s stupidity, a mistake that lasted a lifetime. An accident, just like the plane crash that took their lives. 

A word sprung out at him, preceded by a name that made it all so eerily familiar. He traced the cursive writing again, just to be sure. _Tony Stark_. There, in his mother’s handwriting stood the man he began to see as a father. It was wrong. He shouldn’t be here. This was another era of Peter’s life, long gone but not forgotten if he couldn’t help it. Mr. Stark was the present, Spider-Man and excitement and hope, maybe. They didn’t mix well, not at all, actually, yet shared a common ingredient: Peter. 

He backtracked, reading over the paragraph he had skipped when he found the name. 

_While Richard is your dad in any way that matters, he is not your biological father. Still, Richard loves you as his son. I couldn’t have wished for a better dad for you, Peter, biological or not. I have made a mistake, and he forgave me with open arms. I hope you’ll understand when you’re older. For now, your job is to grow up without worry._

_Your biological father is a troubled man with the potential of one day being a good one. Don’t believe what all the media tells about him. Peter, Tony Stark is your biological father._

No. This couldn’t be. This wasn’t right.

_Tony Stark is your biological father._

The words echoed through Peter, again and again, pushing against the confines of his being until cracks appeared. He felt himself tearing, shattering, but somehow, he was wholly there: Peter Parker, defined in those very words. 

_Tony Stark is your biological father._

Tears disappeared into the cracks, and his hands trembled with the aftershocks. This couldn’t be. How? As much as he wanted to throw the letter away and forget about it all, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from those six words that just turned his life upside down. 

His mother knew Mr. Stark. More so, she slept with him. Peter gagged. He didn’t want to think about that part. _Mr. Stark is your father._ Was he supposed to call him dad now? But what about Pepper? What about Morgan? He couldn’t just go waltzing in and destroy their family like that. No, this wasn’t right. 

Suddenly, Peter laughed. Maybe, this was all an elaborate prank. The box full of lost belongings from his parents showing up. A letter from his mother that said that Mr. Stark was his real dad. It was hilarious, really. He checked his room for hidden cameras, microphones, anything. Any moment, someone would jump out of their hiding spot and tease him for falling for it. Maybe, he was going crazy. 

A soft knock on his door interrupted him, and May’s voice sounded like lightning in his darkness. “Peter?” she asked, taking him in, “What’s wrong?” 

He could’ve said so much more if anger hadn’t won him over. “Did you know?” Peter asked, somehow accusing, gripping the letter tightly. 

“Did I know what? Peter, what’s going on?” She stepped towards him, and Peter fell into her embrace. He let the flowery smell of her deodorant wash over him, with which she sometimes tried to hide the stench of the hospital. Peter could still pick it out, of course, but he didn’t mind. To him, this weird mixture was the smell of home. 

Would this change now? Would he lose this over something he couldn’t control? A sob escaped him anew, and he buried his face deeper into May’s shoulder. He didn’t want to leave here. It was his home too, after all. But what if she wanted him to once she found out? They wouldn’t exactly be related anymore, would they? 

“You’re scaring me here, Peter. What happened?” May asked again, “Was it the stuff from your parents that’s got you so upset?” 

Peter nodded, loosening his grip around her to show her the letter. “My mom-,” he started, interrupted by tears. May gently rubbed her hand over his back. “She wrote me a letter. And- and she’s saying that Richard wasn’t my real dad. I mean, not my biological dad.” May frowned. “And-,” Peter inhaled a shaky breath, “Tony- Mr. Stark is my biological father.” He pushed the words out in a rush, not wanting to say them. They felt weird on his tongue, wrong. It was barely a whisper now, but it had the power to turn his whole life upside down.

“Oh, Pete,” May said, wrapping him into another hug. “I love you,” she whispered into his hair, but it only made him cry louder. He didn’t even know why it upset him so much. 

“Did you know?” Peter repeated once his tears tuned down. 

May shook her head, “I didn’t.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, holding him close. “I had a suspicion though,” she admitted then. Peter nodded, restraining a yawn. 

“You know what? Get some rest. We can talk about this tomorrow,” May instructed, ruffling his hair. Reluctantly, Peter nodded and lay down on the bed. May tugged his blanket under his chin, whispering an _‘I love you’_ before she got up. 

“I love you too,” Peter responded as the door closed. 

He couldn’t sleep. Peter laid there, staring up at the grid of the top bunk. A headache had started to form behind his brows, but still, new, unshed tears burned in his eyes. This was all wrong. Mr. Stark couldn’t be his father. Because that would mean his father never died in a plane crash when he was four, he just wasn’t around. And Mr. Stark was better than that, wasn’t he? Of course, Peter knew about his past of partying and drugs, but there was never a report of an accidental child among the scandals and these days were long gone, and _why him_? Why, out of all possibilities, was he that one mishap child? 

It meant that he was never related to Ben, and that broke his heart. That link just vanished, obliterated by words, blinked out of existence by the supposed truth. It felt like a betrayal, even more so as he looked to Mr. Stark these days for aid. As if Ben never mattered.

A scream rang through the city’s evening air, and Peter sprung up at the welcome distraction. He reached for his suit but stopped right before touching the cloth laced with high tech. This was Tony Stark’s. _His father’s_. Another scream found his ears and for a moment, he saw blood on his fingers, and someone lying on the asphalt just above, blurred by tears. _No_. This couldn’t happen again. 

He flinched away from the material, stumbling back a few steps. His eyes were wide and adorned with tears threatening to fall at any moment. It wasn’t right. _Mr. Stark is your biological father_. No. This wasn’t _him_. 

Peter abandoned it on the ground, scrambling to find his old, home-made suit, and quickly threw it on. A fresh wave of grief and guilt fueled him, but this was why he did this. It was to prevent anyone from dying as Ben did, to keep people safe because of the one he couldn’t. This was him. Spider-Man, and Ben rather than Tony. The old suit was familiar and trusted home to Peter, the one he could always rely on to be there. A pang of guilt ran through him at the thought of how quickly he had abandoned it at getting Mr. Stark’s, but then he remembered the screams out on the streets. He was needed. Finally, Spider-Man climbed out of the window and swung into the night.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a whole lot more angst, so bear with me xD

Peter blinked against the artificial light of the classroom and yawned. Maybe staying out all night on patrol hadn’t been such a great idea. The brightness hurt his eyes, not to mention the students’ tumultuous voices everywhere in the building. A chair creaked in the next room, sending shivers down Peter’s spine. 

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and collided with the wall with a loud bang. Peter's hands almost covered his ears at the assault to his senses but he thought better of it once he realized where he was. Flash had already been eyeing him suspiciously this morning. 

“Good morning!” The teacher greeted them with an amount of energy he never seemed to possess during lessons, causing Peter to grit his teeth to not let out a yelp. At least the rest of the classroom calmed down, letting him breathe.

As soon as the class started, the teacher switched from an energetic morning person to a repetitive and monotone voice, just as expected. Peter groaned and buried his head in his arms, reveling in the relative darkness they provided. Maybe, he could get some sleep in before school ended.

A sudden buzz in his pocket awoke him. The sensation stabbed him like thousands of tiny ant feet, busily whizzing around on his thigh and in his ear. Slightly shaking fingers worked the phone out of his pocket, ready to immediately disregard the notification. He just wanted to sleep. His mind needed a moment to catch up with his eyes scanning the screen, but when it did, all the anxiety and worries he had worked so hard to avoid last night came rushing in again. 

One (1) new message from Tony Stark   
_Hey, kid :) wanna come over to the lake house this weekend? Morgan misses you._

No. He froze, staring at the screen unblinkingly. this couldn’t be happening. He imagined Morgan’s heartbroken eyes when she would find out that her father has another child. Her tears as she ran to her mother’s arms, and the betrayal in Pepper’s eyes at a mistake from Tony’s past life. He was a mishap, never meant to happen, unwanted. 

Morgan, who had stolen an Iron Man helmet from her father’s shop to play with, now throwing it away. Mr. Stark speaks with him, trying to look like he cares, but he’s just a voice in an empty Iron Man armor. Morgan stands at the side, looking sadly at them, and then walks away. What if something happened to her while Mr. Stark was giving him attention because _he was his child too?_

The phone screen cracked under the pressure of his thoughts, waking Peter up with the sharp pain of splinters in his skin. He needed to breathe. The air felt like the sounds of the city; too much all at once. 

“Peter, could you please pay attention to class?” The teacher’s voice ripped through his bubble, bursting it, and freeing everything inside. Peter’s head jerked up, eyes blown wide with panic as his sleep-deprived senses kept blaring _danger!_ at the possibilities. He blinked, calming himself down to the moment. What was happening again? Right. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Peter apologized, faking a smile, “It won’t happen again.” 

“I would hope so,” his teacher answered with a raised eyebrow. Then his voice returned from the momentary frustration back to monotony. 

Peter caught Ned’s worried glance from across the room, shaking his head to sign that he was fine. He was, wasn’t he? All he had to do was to tell Mr. Stark that he wouldn’t make it this weekend. No biggie. Mr. Stark’d be hurt, but ultimately, it was better than finding out the truth. He just had to type one word. Two letters. 

Sighing, Peter packed the phone away. 

His feet itched with antsy anticipation, wanting to run or flee, but Peter did not know where. Unconsciously, he started to bounce his left leg, directing the build-up anxiety somewhere despite his exhaustion. He couldn’t wait until school ended and for some time, he was free to go back to forgetting about Peter Parker’s dilemma and just be the friendly neighborhood vigilante. 

The moment Peter bolted up at the end of the class, Ned was by his side. “Are you okay, dude? You’ve been kinda off all day,” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter waved him off while grabbing his stuff. He _was_ fine. Nothing to worry about. Suddenly, he froze at the realization of how similar this action was to Mr. Stark’s behavior. He was in his DNA, there was no escaping it. _Tony Stark is your biological father_. Maybe, the truth of it hadn’t fully seeped into the deepest ends of his mind yet. 

Ned walked into him, clearly not expecting the teenager before him to suddenly stop on the way out of a classroom of all places. “Is it your spider-sense? Are we all in danger?” he probed, looking around suspiciously and scanning the windows. 

“No,” Peter shook his head, picking his legs up where they left off, trying to think of something that wouldn’t worry his friend too much. But the pounding ache in his forehead had other plans. “I’m just-”

“He hasn’t slept all night,” MJ chipped in, ever-observant. Nothing escaped her knowing eyes. Peter sighed. How did she always do that? Take him apart with just a look and come away with a full analysis of him? 

“Yes, Sherlock,” he admitted in a dead-pan. Then, a little calmer, he added an excuse: “It was a busy night.” MJ narrowed her eyes at that, but eventually, she let it be. Ned, on the other hand, immediately started to ask for details and then excitedly rambled on.

His voice blended into the background of chattering students as Peter discovered the black Audi in the parking lot. His stomach sank, and everything that the text had awoken again earlier came back to haunt him. Peter mentally slapped himself for forgetting that it was a lab day while trying to hide the slight tremor that had returned to his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I, uh, I gotta go,” Peter excused himself, turning around on the spot, “I forgot the Lit book in my locker. See you tomorrow!” With that, he ran off to disappear into the ever-thinning crowd of highschool students. 

“But we don’t even have homework in Lit!” Ned argued, but Peter was already gone. 

Peter sprinted through the school, giving this weird energy in his feet some leeway, barely avoiding teachers on more accounts than he’d like. Luckily though, he didn’t get called out. His lungs burned from his panic and running, causing tears to dance in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t escape. He felt like he was trapped under concrete once again, and the pounding in his head was just him screaming for help. He was caught in a grueling storm with Tony Stark in the middle. 

Finally, he arrived at the backdoor on the other side of the building. Silently, he slipped out of the door and headed for a nearby alleyway he deemed safe. He dug into his backpack to bring his secret identity to light in one of the only moments it was fragile. 

Peter stopped short as his fingers brushed against a fabric that wasn’t quite as soft as he expected it to be yet so heartbreakingly familiar. No. Nonono. He dimly remembered pulling his suit off and changing into the normal clothes in a rush this morning, barging out the door without even thinking about breakfast. Did he forget it there, lying innocently on his bed at home?

Growling in frustration, he yanked the imposter out of his bag, tempted to just throw it on the ground right then and there. But, he couldn’t do that. It was an expensive piece of technology especially reserved for Spider-Man, not meant to ever get in the wrong hands. Peter sank to the ground, fighting tears now as everything came boiling down. How was he supposed to push Mr. Stark away when he did things like that for him? 

He needed the distraction and time-shift his homemade suit brought, not the excitement of this one. In his old suit, he wasn’t tied to his biological father, he was simply just him. Tony Stark had weaved his way into every aspect of the teenager’s life, from Spider-Man to stars-struck mentee. This wasn’t about his life as a vigilante anymore, no, these days had long since passed. And now, he was in his blood. He was a Stark by blood. Peter choked on a sob. 

A part of him didn’t want to lose this. It was all he ever dreamed of, so why was he giving it up? He wasn’t betraying Ben by wanting this, was he? But Morgan deserved to have a whole family, and the betrayal inherent to Peter’s whole existence could shatter that. 

Only now did he discover the note attached to the suit, and a smile began to challenge the tears. 

_Stay safe. Love you. - May_

Suddenly, the suit wasn’t all dreams he had to bury anymore, there was a warmth in it knowing it made May happy to know he was safe. After all, a million-dollar investment did bring some more security than a simple, home-sewn onesie. 

Peter sighed, and then changed. After all, it was still better than facing the man head-on and this was what he was itching to do all day. There still was that knowledge hanging over his head like that one sword in Greek mythology, but as Spider-Man, it didn’t seem as big and scary anymore. Was it Greek mythology? He couldn’t remember.

~~~

Up high and overlooking the city he so dearly loved, Peter could breathe. His eyes were the setting sun, sinking over him and bringing peaceful and endearing darkness. It was a quiet day for now, and he had only stopped a few thieves on the run. Karen hadn’t detected anything else, so Peter watched over the city until something would eventually call him to action. 

He didn’t expect it to be the familiar sound of thrusters, transforming the air he breathed into anxiety as they pushed it away. He’d ignored the calls and hung up at the ones he had pressed through, overriding his command. It was way too familiar to the Ferry incident, though he had no plan here. Maybe, Mr. Stark came to take his suit again. It would push them apart and considering everything, that wasn’t the worst thing to happen, was it? Maybe Spider-Man had to fall for Peter to fix this. 

“Hey, Pete,” Mr. Stark’s voice sounded over the wind, sweeping away the warmth of the sun. Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter observed the unopened armor, how it landed behind him, yet still remained void of any sign of life. Was he really here after all? Was it only an empty suit again, a slap in the face for Peter, a sign he didn’t really care? Peter sucked in a shaky breath as quietly as he could. When had the air become so thin it refused to provide him with the oxygen he needed? It was okay. Mr. Stark had to be here for Morgan, not for him. 

“Peter?” Mr. Stark repeated, somehow closer now, possibly scared. Was there fear in his always so carefully layered voice? Peter wasn’t sure. He couldn’t move, didn’t want to. “Could you please step away from the ledge?” 

_Oh_. Something akin to relief washed over him, momentarily removing the shackles panic held him in. Peter had forgotten what it looked like, him, sitting quietly on the edge of a roof. He nodded to himself and then swung his legs towards safety. 

Suddenly, the armor opened, and Tony Stark stepped out, towards Peter. So he came. Unconsciously, Peter retreated, not missing the hurt it caused in his mentor’s eyes. _I’m sorry_ , Peter almost wanted to say, _it’s for the better_. 

“What’s going on, bud?” Tony asked, somehow looking more helpless than Peter has ever seen him. It was confusing. Silence fell over them as Tony waited, but all words had left the boy. He couldn’t. Because if he started now, he’d probably spill it all. 

“If you don’t wanna come to the Tower today, that’s fine, you could’ve just told us.” 

“I forgot to send the text,” Peter lied in an unnaturally small voice. He sucked in some air and stood up straighter to find the illusion of his usual self before he elaborated. “It was just crazy, I was typing it but then somehow my phone fell out of my hand, I really don’t know why, I mean, I got sticky hands, don’t I? Anyway, when I picked it up again, Ned had sent me this link to this awesome vid and I totally forgot about the text over it. Honestly, I thought I had sent it-” 

“Peter,” Tony interrupted him, the edges in his expression slightly smoothed, but still, he looked right through his charade. “That still doesn’t explain why you ran away when you saw Happy in the parking lot,” he pointed out, raising his eyebrow slightly. 

“I-,” Peter started, at a loss of words. Why was his stupid brain so slow now of all times? Someone told him. He panicked and ran and someone ratted him out to Tony for it. 

“Or why May tells me that you were out all night but I got no reports from Karen. Were you wearing your old onesie? Why? Please tell me you weren’t wearing that old thing.” Tony looked seriously puzzled, hiding his worry under needless details, and Peter couldn’t explain. “Also, if you were out all night, which I don’t condone by the way, not sleeping is a bad idea, kid, but what in the world makes you think you should be going on patrol again?” 

Peter looked down, shuffling his feet. He tried to breathe, hanging onto the only point of relief he could find: Mr. Stark didn’t know. May didn’t tell him. He didn’t know. He wasn’t around earlier because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t know about his mishap kid. It made this all easier, yet left Tony with this heartbreaking, helpless expression as he tried to figure what was going on. It was better this way, Peter reminded himself. 

“And why are you ignoring my texts and calls, kid? Why are you ghosting your old man, hm?” 

The sentence hit him unprepared. It was a knife he overlooked in a fistfight, suddenly stabbing into his chest. _Old man. Tony Stark is your biological father_. It all mixed, adding fire to the storm, showing a truth he tried so hard to deny. Mr. Stark was already acting so much like a father to him and Peter couldn’t. He was right there in front of him, with open arms and mind, wanting to help and Peter couldn’t give in. He simply couldn’t. This wasn’t fair. 

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Peter mumbled out, stumbling over his words like his feet that were ready to run but Peter kept them right here out of courtesy. 

“Cut the crap, kid. Something’s going on, I can see that. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me, Peter. So please, talk to me, kid.” His voice was a rollercoaster that went from frustrated anger to comforting pleading, intriguing Peter in its familiarity. One word, and it would all fall apart, everything he decided since his whole world shifted. 

But, Peter shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered, unsure whether his lips even moved, too caught in his mind again. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Giving in to his feet, he avoided Tony’s eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle the pain there. Something splintered within him, held together only by paper-thin threads, so fragile it would shatter under a simple touch. Peter ran.


	3. Part 3

“Oh no, you’re definitely going,” May decided, her voice leaving no room for arguments. Peter tried anyway. His hands were already shaking from the ruin he knew he’d bring, and he just wanted to get away. 

“But…,” he started, combing through his chaotic headspace for anything that would convince his aunt. He’d break the Stark family apart. May wouldn’t believe him if he said that though. He wasn’t ready to face their devastation once they’d find out the truth about him. It would all change. The rough edges of his heart that had begun to shatter the last time he spoke to Mr. Stark cut into his insides, reminding him every second of the hurt he’d bring. 

“Peter, I’m not throwing you out,” May added in a softer tone, maybe sensing his anxiety but failing to recognize the cause of it. Instead, she added a possibility that made it so much worse. She drew him into a sideways hug, and Peter hesitated to let his tense, trembling body lean into the comfort. May was steady, warm, and assuring, everything his anxiety told him was wrong. How could she be so steady?

“I just think it’d be nice for you two to spend some time together,” she added. Peter shook his head. That was a bad idea. He was so close to breaking, he’d spill everything once he was there. He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t. 

“What if he doesn’t want me to?” Peter mumbled, his fear trying to catch his tongue. _What if he throws me out once he finds out?_

“Don’t be ridiculous,” May scolded him, “He invited you.” Right. But what if? There was always the possibility, and he didn’t want to live through it. Peter just couldn’t. 

“What if it was just out of courtesy?” he spurted, only realizing how ridiculous it sounded once he said it out loud. Tony Stark wasn’t exactly known for doing things out of courtesy, even if he couldn’t exactly afford it. It drove Pepper crazy regularly. “I mean, he doesn’t know I’m- I’m his kid, and what if he doesn’t want me?”

“He loves you,” May assured him. Peter shook his head, wanting to run away from these words, shoving them away. It couldn’t be true. Though they crashed against a wall of disbelief before they ever had the chance to be considered true, Peter could already feel them haunting him. “I doubt this will change anything.” 

“What if it does?” 

May chuckled as she ruffled his hair. “I don’t think it will. Though, there’s really only one way to find out, so what do you say? Plus, Tony said that Morgan misses you too and you can’t say no to her, can you?” He would have to. It was for her own good. He imagined a teary-eyed Morgan as he left her behind, not understanding why. His heart pulled against its restraints and Peter found himself giving in. 

“Alright,” he grunted defeatedly. 

May grinned widely, ruffling his hair again. “Then go pack your stuff, Happy’s coming in an hour.” Peter sighed before slouching towards his room. He already felt like an imposter sent on a mission, or a time bomb amidst a family he held dear. Why did he agree to this? 

The drive to the lake house was too long and too short simultaneously. He sat in the awkward silence he didn’t have the energy to fill with mindless chatter like he usually did, bouncing his leg in drowning anticipation. Peter fiddled with his phone to distract himself, but couldn’t halt at anything. Instead, he just switched through the same few apps, hoping there’d be something for his brain to latch onto. 

“Are you okay?” Peter flinched as the soundwaves entered his ears, only making sense of the noise later. Why was someone talking? Ah, right, Happy hadn’t closed the shutter yet because Peter hadn’t annoyed him enough. His fault. 

“I’m fine,” he lied, anxiously wrapping the cords of his headphones around his fingers. “Why are you asking?” 

“You just don’t seem like your usual self today. I mean, usually, you would’ve talked my ears off,” he stated, mustering the teen closely as they halted at a stoplight. Peter cowered under the stare. 

“Yeah, well, I’m trying this thing currently where I talk less. Not sure it works for me though,” he joked with a slight, lopsided grin. 

“Well, if that’s it, keep going. I like it,” Happy stated, and Peter breathed as the tension lessened. “You gotta tell Tony though. He’s been freaking out because he thinks you’re avoiding him or something, and quite honestly, it’s exhausting. You know how he gets.” 

“Oh,” Peter made, directing his gaze towards his feet and the odd thread sticking out off the carpet on the car floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, guilt washing him over and bringing its good friend grief with it. Because of him, Happy’s job got more difficult. And maybe, it’d worsen in the next few days. This would all be over. The fancy cars, the high-tech suit, the warmth. He’d definitely miss feeling like he belonged in a family he sometimes still was starstruck about. 

They returned to their awkward silence after that and eventually, Peter put his headphones on. He couldn’t settle on a song though so he just enjoyed how they muffled everything. It helped. That was another thing Mr. Stark had done for him: help him with his enhanced senses. More than once, his mentor guided him through a sensory overload after a mission or at least did everything he could to make it hurt less. _He loves you,_ May’s words echoed through his mind. He knew that. It was what made this so hard. 

“We’re here,” Happy announced after the longest second Peter had ever lived through. Peter nodded, taking a deep breath. He could do this. It would soon be over, and he’d have certainty. He’d be alone, but it was better than this hope of acceptance weaving through his body, right? He sat up, ready to exit the car. Only, his feet wouldn’t move. Okay, he could deal with that. Just… Just what exactly? Peter blinked, caught in the oncoming storm of his panic. 

“Peter?” Happy asked as he opened the door next to the teen. As if this was his cue or the push he needed, Peter bolted out of the car, only coming to a halt halfway on the path to the house. No. He didn’t want to face this. Okay. _Breathe_. 

“Your bag.” Peter flinched as Happy appeared at his side all of the sudden, holding out Peter’s belonging for him to take. 

“Thank you,” Peter nodded, hoping to not give away his inner turmoil. With trembling hands, he grabbed his bag and held it close. Then, just as he was about to allow his feet to run like they wanted to, he realized that this might as well be the last time he saw Happy. He stopped short, looking up at the man, trying for a grin that ended in more of a sad smile. “Thank you,” he said again, earnestly. 

“No problem, kid,” Happy frowned, “You sure you’re okay?” 

Peter nodded again, though this time his body felt suddenly strangely calm. It would be over soon. “Yes, I am,” he assured him before taking his heavy feet up the stairs to the front door. It would be okay. 

For what felt like an eternity, he stood in the doorway, just watching the family in front of him. What could’ve been his. It was weirdly easy to open the door as long as he didn’t think about it, but now he fell short at announcing his arrival. It would destroy this perfect image in front of him and he was content to let it live a little longer. 

Morgan was showing Tony something she created, with her father asking constructive questions. She giggled as she explained, and Tony laughed once she was finished. Pepper glanced up from where she was typing on her laptop, her mouth cursing into a warm smile as she watched them. 

Suddenly, Morgan turned around, seemingly in search of something, and spotted the intruder. “Petey!” she exclaimed, running excitedly towards him with open arms. The picture-perfect painting melted, but for now, the warmth wasn’t as destructive. Peter crouched down to return her hug. 

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said with a heaviness in his voice Peter hadn’t accounted for. Hesitance masked his demeanor, and there was already pain. Peter tried to breathe. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter answered, purposefully avoiding the adult’s eyes. However often he had told himself that it was for the best, he couldn’t stand the hurt in his mentor’s eyes. He was already slowly breaking, the threads holding the truth from spilling aching under pressure. 

Pepper was the last one to greet him. Her friendly “Hello, Peter” comfortably cut into the tension between him and Tony and brought back the earlier homeliness. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She smiled at him almost motherly, with an edge of worry in her eyes, and Peter could feel the shards begging to be heard. He couldn’t. He’d ruin this. Tony didn’t deserve his family to be broken apart. So, he ran again as soon as he could and holed himself up in his room. It would be a long weekend.

~~

“Okay, no more hiding. What’s going on?” Tony all but barged into his room, turning the previously tranquil space into one filled with anxiety. Peter tensed as he slowly sat up, staring at his mentor. _Here goes nothing_ , he thought, the ugly taste of dread on his tongue. “Please talk to me, kid,” he pleaded, poking him with a metaphorical stick. 

Peter sighed and closed his eyes to greet the conflict Mr. Stark had brought with him. Was it better if he kept still and left him forever in the dark, or should he tell him now? Would it have the effect Peter feared? Would his weekend be cut even shorter than he expected? As he opened his eyes, he found his answer in Mr. Stark’s waiting eyes. Peter simply couldn’t live a lie. 

“Pete?” Mr. Stark repeated, his voice like thunder in the empty room. There was hidden rain in his eyes, kept in their clouds for now, and no sign of lightning. No anger where Peter had expected it, only concern and hurt. 

Sighing, he gave in. It was time. He grabbed his bag, pulling the letter out, holding it out with shaking hands when all he wanted was to hold it close. Tony raised his right eyebrow in question, making no attempt to take the paper. Right. He didn’t like to be handed things. 

“Just- Just read it. Please,” Peter said. Though, as Mr. Stark finally took the letter, he shivered. His whole being was defined in those words his mother crafted and Mr. Stark, his _father_ , now held in his hands. He was laid completely bare and it felt like concrete was weighing him down once again, scratching his skin and crushing the air out of his lungs. He looked away, busying his hands with each other, just anything that would take his mind off it. 

The quiet _thu-thump_ of Mr. Stark’s heart drew him in. It was steady. Alive. A rock in his stormy sea that no gun could take that away from him at this moment. He was here. It would be fine. No. He was reading the very words that turned everything upside down, and now he sat there with the blood of yet another person on his hands. No, family this time. He heaved a breath and a tear escaped. 

A slight stutter in the steady beat stabbed right into Peter, cutting through the remaining threads that were holding him together, letting his glassy heart shatter. Debris spread into his chest, marking it as a battlefield. The teen looked up to meet the gaze that looked at him over the letter. 

There was a conflict in those eyes that were so painfully similar to his own. Was he thinking about how to let him down slowly, pushing him out of his family? _Just get it over with_ , Peter thought, _please_. 

“So,” Tony started, a slight tremor in his voice that puzzled Peter, “I’m your father?” Peter nodded. There was no denying it now. It was all red in his chest and blood changed from Ben’s to Tony’s. It was betrayal in a deepened form somehow. He wasn’t replacing Ben. _Tony Stark is your biological father_. No. He’d never replace him. 

“Wow, that’s a lot,” he admitted, sitting down next to Peter on his bed, taunting him with his warm proximity. Peter chuckled brokenly and brought some space between them when he wanted nothing more than to lean against him and let himself be wrapped up in comfort. Another tear rolled down his cheek. 

The silence that settled upon them was deafening, somehow worse than the one he’d endured on the drive here. Peter took a deep breath, preparing himself for the fall. Only, it never came. 

“I understand if you want me to leave now,” Peter pressed out as he couldn’t take it anymore. He tried not to scream as much as he wanted to, but he had to do something. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mr. Stark said at the same time, stunting them back to silence. “No, Peter, why would you think that?” he then asked and gently tapped his finger against Peter’s cheek to make him look up. Why was all he saw worry and love in Mr. Stark’s eyes? 

“Because,” Peter started, still trying to grasp what was happening. Mr. Stark was okay with it. He wouldn’t throw him out. It was okay. “Because I thought you wouldn’t want me to break your family apart:” 

“You’re already part of this family, kid, why would that break it apart?” Tony frowned, genuinely baffled by the direction his thoughts had taken. Suddenly, Peter couldn’t keep it in anymore. He could stay. A sob escaped his lips, and instinctively, he hid his face in the palm of his hands. But he also laughed through the tears. It was confusing. 

Careful and warm arms wrapped around him, holding him close in comfort and Peter melted right into it. Balling his hand around the hem of Mr. Stark's shirt, if only to tether himself to this reality, this impossible outcome, he cried into his shoulder. He could stay. 

“This doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to, kid,” Tony promised and Peter breathed the words in, letting them wash over his anxiety like the tide on a stormy day. He could stay. Here in the cradle of Mr. Stark’s arms, he was safe, he was okay. He could stay, nothing had to change. He focused back on Tony’s heart, letting the steady sound guide him back to calmer waters. 

“I love you, kid,” Tony whispered before softly kissing the top of his head.

~~

Rock music softly played in the shed modeled to become a genius’s workshop. Peter mustered the badge of web fluid he’d just created based on a new formula, pulling on it to see it perform. The clanking sounds of Tony fixing a part of his armor disrupted the music, making Peter smile. He was home. 

A small tug on his jeans jerked him from his work. “Hello, Morgan,” he greeted the little intruder with a grin. He basked in her sparkling eyes, always so excited about almost everything that concerned her big brother. “Wanna test this new web fluid I made?” he invited her, putting her to sit on the desk next to his work at her exaggerated nod. 

“Are you really my big bro now?” she casually asked while she leaned over his notes, though watching him out of the corner of her eyes. 

“Half-bro, but yeah,” Peter corrected her, teasingly ruffling her hair. She shook her hair, letting it whip through the air to escape his treacherous hand. He laughed. For a moment, Morgan made a big show out of pouting, but then, the light returned. 

Peter handed her a web shooter he only used for testing and showed her where to aim. The web landed way off on the wall somewhere, but Peter assured her that she could try again. Soon, instead of using the old sign on the wall as a target, they made it a game of trying to shoot as close to Tony as possible without him noticing. Morgan kicked a metal part off a table, and it landed on the ground with a loud _clank_ and rolled around soundly in beat with the music before settling down. But, Tony didn’t look up, too emerged in his work. Morgan raised her hands in victory. 

Next, Peter aimed for Tony’s coffee mug. He took his time to calculate the shot and gracefully landed exactly on the Iron Man symbol that adorned it. Though, he overshot. The mug moved dangerously close to the edge before a hand grabbed and steadied it. Peter breathed in relief. 

“Could you guys be a little bit more careful?” Tony asked, giving him attention for the first time since they started. He tried to look all serious and like the responsible adult, but an amused glimmer in his eyes betrayed him. Peter giggled, dragging Morgan down with him into laughter. Tony snorted and shook his head at them. 

After that, Peter returned to his formula, searching for any space for improvement. He didn’t like how sticky it was inside the web shooter as it was dangerously close to clocking it up. Occasionally, he tried to explain to Morgan what he was doing. 

“Pete!” The call interrupted Peter at a particularly difficult point in his equation, but he looked up nonetheless. His head full of sticky webs, he did not expect Tony to suddenly breathe heavily while holding something in front of his mouth. Panic filled him, and he readied himself to sprint over to help, but weirdly, his spider senses stayed quiet, as if nothing was happening. 

“I am your father,” Tony then spoke in a raspy, dark voice, otherwise known as the best Darth Vader impression he could muster. Peter snorted, relaxing his shoulder, inviting the warmth in to spread all throughout his body. 

“No!” he exclaimed in fake shock before doubling down in a laughing fit. Tony coughed but joined in. Happiness was all around them, and even Morgan chuckled despite her lack of reference. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you there'd be a fluffy ending ;) 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and support!! <3 (I don't usually get a lot of comments so this is crazy to me :D) I hope you liked this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://cassiecasyl.tumblr.com)!


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